The Private Serials Box Set

by Anie Michaels

**We’re going to a Gala tomorrow night. One of the charities the company supports is throwing a fundraiser. Formal. I’ll be there at seven to pick you up.**

  “Shit,” I said as I finished reading it. I put the phone back up to my ear just as Preston started speaking.

  “Lena? Is everything all right?”

  I sighed. “No, not really. Derrek says we have to go to a fundraiser tomorrow night. I hate those enough to begin with, but having to pretend to be his happy wife for an evening really doesn’t sound like my idea of a fun time.” I rubbed the little bundle of wrinkles between my eyebrows, the skin bunching there from the tension rolling through my body.

  Preston was silent at the other end of the line, but the silence also allowed me to hear his car turning off, signaling he’d arrived wherever he was headed.

  “Anyway, sorry to bother you. Take your time with the case. I’m just anxious to get out of here.”

  “Lena,” he whispered my name like it hurt him to do so. His voice was pained and thick, soft but strained. “Don’t go.”

  “What?” My reply was whispered, just like his voice.

  “Don’t go. Don’t. Make up some excuse, but don’t go with him.”

  My mouth opened to say something, but then closed again, my mind not coming up with a reply.

  “Preston, I have to go. I’m his wife,” I finally uttered. I heard him inhale and I winced, feeling like I’d hurt him somehow with my words.

  “You’re only his wife on paper,” he said, sounding angrier, harsher.

  “That’s the only part that matters right now.”

  “His money can’t be so important to you that you’d basically sell yourself. That’s what you’re doing, Lena. You’re selling yourself if you go with him. You’re pretending to be his wife for money. What does that make you?”

  Now it was my turn to be angry. “What, exactly, are you trying to say?” I turned out of the living room, headed to my bedroom and walked to my window, pulling the curtains back just slightly. Just enough to see his black Lotus in its usual spot a few houses down.

  “I don’t want you with him.” This statement was spoken in a voice still firm and a little angry, but also pleading.

  His words evoked so many emotions from me it was hard to nail one down. The overwhelming feelings were happiness and warmth. Preston cared enough about me to want to keep me from Derrek. Whether this was out of just macho dominance or genuine concern, it didn’t matter. It’d been years since someone cared about me and I wanted to wrap myself up in it. But all of that happiness was tamped down by my need to get out of my marriage intact. I couldn’t let my emotions ruin my plans.

  “Preston, I don’t want to be with him, either,” I said as I looked at his car. I strained to see his form through the windows, but he was too far. The urge to lay my eyes on him was overwhelming. Just to see him. That was all I needed. “Will you do me a favor?” I whispered.

  “Anything,” he replied, making my eyes close and the breath steal away from me.

  “Can you get out of your car for just a moment?”

  He didn’t answer, just opened his car door and got out, walking to the front of it, staring right at me in my bedroom window. I bit down on my lips to keep myself from asking him to come in, because I knew, without a doubt, if I invited him in the game would be over.

  “You’re always gone when I wake up. How long do you stay out there?”

  “Until I know for sure you’re safe.” His answer was both infuriating and beautiful.

  “Goodnight, Preston.”

  “Sleep tight, sweetheart.”

  The next night, I found myself wasting a fantastic dress on Derrek. I turned in the mirror to check the back of the dress. Yup. What a waste.

  From the waist up, the dress was all black lace. It had a tight collar neck with capped sleeves. The lace came down the back, but in the front there was a rather large keyhole. It was big enough to show decent cleavage, but not distastefully. The lace went down to my hips where it met a soft, pink flowing material that floated out around me whenever I moved, swishing in a way that made most girls smile. It was the kind of material that made you want to move to see and feel the fabric swirl around you. It had a high-low hem, so the front came to just above my knees, but the back floated all the way to the ground. The lace was used in the bottom half of the dress as detail, and swirled daintily around my hips and curves.

  My dark hair was up in a sophisticated twist with a few tendrils left down to curl around my face. My makeup was soft and natural. The only jewelry I wore were the diamond solitaire earrings my father gave me for college graduation and my wedding ring.

  I heard the front door open and took a deep breath in, trying to ready myself to spend an evening pretending to be happy with my husband. I heard him walking toward the bedroom and my eyes moved to the door. He walked briskly through the door, glancing at me, then moving back toward the dresser, where he stopped and opened the top drawer. I noticed he was in a tuxedo and I wondered, briefly, where he’d gotten ready. Then I laughed softly because I realized exactly where he’d dressed. I also noticed he spared not even three seconds to admire me in this dress, in which I looked fantastic. But just as quickly as his eyes passed over me, the thought flitted from my mind. I didn’t need or want him to desire me. I wanted out. Unfortunately, I was forced to spend the next few hours with him.

  “Are you ready to go?” he asked as he put new cufflinks in.

  “Yup,” I said, popping the P at the end of the word.

  “Great, the town car is outside waiting for you.”

  I wasted no time walking outside, only stopping to grab my coat. As I walked down the path to the waiting car, I saw the black Lotus drive slowly past my house and my heart rate spiked, knowing Preston was inside the car. The car continued down the road, turning at the corner, and then disappearing. I took in a sharp breath when I heard the front door close behind me and heard Derrek’s voice.

  “Lena, we don’t have all night. Let’s go.” He was being impatient. Fantastic. I climbed in the car, hoping Preston didn’t follow us. I didn’t need this kind of drama tonight. I just wanted to get the event over with and go home, hopefully without Derrek, and hopefully with Preston in his car down the road. It was selfish of me, I realized, but I also didn’t care. What I didn’t need was Preston making a scene. I hoped he was smart enough to realize that and keep his distance.

  An hour later, we were fully surrounded by Derrek’s co-workers and employees. There were many other people in attendance and occasionally Derrek would pull me away to meet people he was trying to network with. I played my part: smiled, nodded, and pretended to be interested in their conversation. I also withheld from shooting glares at Derrek when his hand rested on the small of my back, or he leaned over and placed soft kisses on my neck behind my ear. In the past, these gestures would have left me swooning, my heartbeat pulsing through my veins, my need for him building, the anticipation of our night in bed filling my mind. Instead, I tried not to roll my eyes when he touched me. At one point, I found myself fantasizing about Preston kicking my door down and rushing to find me in bed, waiting for him, naked.

  I was pulled from my daydream, and caught completely off guard, when Derrek interrupted me with an introduction that sounded forced and uncomfortable.

  “Ms. Fahey, this is my wife, Lena.”

  I turned to see the woman I was being introduced to was, in fact, my husband’s mistress. I deserved an academy award for my performance over the next few minutes. Not only was I able to keep my face from showing any of the discomfort I was feeling as I eyed the woman sleeping with my husband, but I managed to ignore the glare she was not as good at hiding from me. She looked me up and down, obviously sizing up the competition.

  “Lena, this is Jessica Fahey. She’s the assistant to the CEO.” I smiled sweetly at her, secretly pleased that I was already winning the ‘Who Can Keep Their Cool’ competition. She was losing, miserably.

  “It’s so
nice to meet you,” I said, with a smile. “I love your dress.” Her dress was hideous.

  She tilted her head to the side and tried to smile, but it came off sort of like a grimace. “Thanks. Your wedding ring is lovely,” she said, gesturing to my hand.

  No way that bitch was gutsy enough to gawk at my wedding ring. She obviously had no idea I knew who she was, or that she was fucking my husband. I played right along, though.

  “Oh, thanks,” I cried, holding my hand out for her to examine the ring. “It’s three carats,” I said, sighing, playing up the smitten wife role. I leaned into her and whispered, “Do you want to try it on? I don’t mind.” She pulled back from me like she’d been bitten. Oh, I think I touched a nerve. She looked as if she tasted something sour and then she took a stance as if to lunge at me, but Derrek grabbed her elbow and strode her away from me, saying something about having to discuss a certain account with her.

  As he ushered her away from me, I felt a strange sensation, as if I were being watched. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and my heart pounded in my chest. My head swiveled to the left, then to the right, but I saw nothing out of the ordinary. My eyes found Derrek again and I watched as he tried to calm Jessica down, tried to keep her from causing a scene. She looked near tears and it was obvious my being there was distressing to her. Join the club, lady. I couldn’t watch my husband comfort his mistress any longer, so I turned to find the restroom.

  I walked down the hallway along the far end of the ballroom, guessing I would find the restrooms somewhere close by. My heels were clacking on the hard floors, a sound I had always enjoyed hearing, and I focused on the echo it made. Then, the echo of my shoes was joined by the sound of another set of shoes walking behind me. Before I could process the extra footfalls, I felt a hand on my elbow and I was being pulled through a door to my right.

  I was tugged into the room and I stumbled a few steps, trying to regain my balance. The room was lit, but dimly, and all I could focus on was Preston and his face, which looked like a cross between pained and furious.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice urgent but quiet. I did not need to be discovered in a utility closet with a man who wasn’t my husband. “And what is your problem? You can’t just yank me around!”

  “I didn’t yank you.” He was pacing around the room like a caged tiger. As he walked back and forth, he ran his hand through his hair, and I couldn’t help but notice he was wearing a tuxedo. This was not a tuxedo he’d rented for an evening. This was his tuxedo, and it was tailored specifically for him. Even though most of his body was covered, I’d never been so enraptured by it before. The man wore that tuxedo in a way that made my entire body want to crawl inside of it with him.

  “Preston, why are you here?”

  “He had his hands on you.” He stopped pacing when he spoke, looking directly at me. I swallowed hard, taking in the sharp features of his face, made even more striking by his anger. He took a step toward me and I instinctively took a step backward. He continued in my direction and I retreated until I was pressed against a wall, and he was just feet away. I had nowhere to go so I just tipped my chin up and looked him in the eye, not backing down. “I would have stayed out of sight,” he said, stopping inches from me. “I planned to stay out of sight, but then he had to put his hands on you.”

  I took a deep breath in, but he was so close my breasts pushed against him. I exhaled quickly, enjoying the contact too much, and then tried to respond to him.

  “He’s my husband,” I managed, if only a strangled whisper, his face now just a breath away from mine.

  “But you belong to me.” I didn’t have time to respond to his words before his mouth crashed down onto mine. I fought his mouth, my hands coming to his chest to push him away at first, but then his tongue slid along the seam of my lips, and when I moaned involuntarily, he snuck in. My body couldn’t fight him anymore, didn’t want to fight him. My mind was quickly ticking through all the reasons kissing Preston was the worst mistake I could make in that moment, but rather quickly, as his hands began to slide up my sides, barely brushing the edge of my breasts, the reasons I shouldn’t kiss him morphed into the reasons I never wanted to stop.

  When he felt me give in to him, something else inside him snapped, and the kiss went even deeper. His tongue swiped through my mouth and my tongue was desperate to find his. His hands found the sides of my face, angling me perfectly to take even more from me.

  Good God.

  The man could kiss.

  My hands slid up the front of him, running into the buttons of his tux jacket. I undid the buttons and pushed his coat aside, only to encounter the vest, which I hastily unbuttoned as well. Finally, only the thin layer of his dress shirt was between my hands and his chest and I could feel every ripple of muscle the man was hiding. Muscles I’d been imagining every day since I first met him in that bar. I clutched his shirt, my back arching, trying to get as close to him as possible.

  As he kissed me, he unleashed a growl and my reaction was instinct. I moaned as wetness pooled between my legs and my hands shook with anticipation. His left hand moved to the back of my neck, keeping my mouth pressed firmly against his, while his right hand slid down my front, over my breast. His hand cupped my lace-covered breast, his thumb pressing gently over my nipple, so hard he could no doubt feel it through my dress.

  I moaned again, louder this time, causing our mouths to break apart. My eyes closed and my head rolled back, unable to focus on anything besides sensation. His thumb and forefinger tugged on my nipple through my dress and I mewled again, my clit pulsing, begging for contact. I felt his mouth between my breasts, licking the valley there, as his hand moved lower.

  “Preston,” I moaned. I knew we shouldn’t continue, knew I should push him away, but the rational part of my brain was being held hostage by the part that wanted to fuck him in this room. Wanted to feel him inside of me, wanted all of him, and there was no reasoning with this part. I didn’t even try.

  “Be quiet, sweetheart,” he whispered, the anger gone from his voice. He sounded softer but still gruff. He sounded like he was aroused, and hearing his voice like that, calling me sweetheart, catapulted me into another stratosphere. His mouth left my cleavage and I felt him move lower, my eyes moving to watch him crouch to the ground. As he slid down, his hands grazed down the sides of me, leaving trails of electricity and sparks behind. Everywhere he touched me turned to fire.

  When his face aligned with the part of me pulsing and throbbing, I silently begged him to put his mouth on me. I wanted nothing more in that moment than to feel his tongue slide through me. Instead, his eyes moved back to mine and he spoke.

  “In another place, in another time, I’d bury my face in you so fast, my only goal to make you scream my name. But not tonight, Lena.” With those breathtaking words, his hands softly started at my knees and then moved to the back of my thighs, sliding up and over my ass, then stopped at the top of my panties. I gasped when he pulled them gently down my legs, stopping at my ankles. “Lift.”

  Without giving it much thought, I raised one foot, watching him carefully maneuver the lacy, beige thong around the high heels, then he gently tapped my other ankle and we repeated the process. He stood slowly, my panties in his hand, and gave me a sexy, sultry smile. I was still lightly panting, my body not used to being this revved up. Then my breath stopped completely when he placed my panties in the front breast pocket of his tuxedo jacket.

  “Now these belong to me, too.”

  “Preston,” I started, only to be stopped again by his mouth. With his lips pressed firmly against mine, his hands brushed up the outside of my thighs, bringing my dress up with them until I was bare from the waist down. His left arm wrapped around my waist, holding up my dress and his other hand found its way to my ass, palming it, pulling me closer to him.

  I was bare, being pushed against his front, and all I could feel was his erection pressing into me. Without much thought to anything else besides t
he heat between my legs, I wrapped one leg around his hip, allowing the very center of me to press up against him.

  His fingers moved softly over the swell of my ass, over the crease between my hip and thigh, and continued down the front of me until his fingers were teasing the very spot that ached for him. He continued to kiss me as his fingers gently parted me and slowly dipped in, seeming to test me. I reached down between us, my hand covering his wrist, urging him on, hoping he’d give me what I needed.

  “Please,” I breathed against his kiss, and I cried out as his fingers pushed farther into me. Our foreheads pressed together as we both looked down to see his hand working in and out of me.

  “Christ, you’re wet,” he growled.

  With each swipe of his fingers, I felt him graze that spot buried deep inside me that triggered me to gasp and shake all over. He felt it, too, fed off my reaction to his touch, and every time his fingers delved into me, he was searching for that perfect spot.

  His forehead pulled away from mine and his lips wandered to my neck, just adding to the pile of sensations I would have to walk away from when it was all over. His tongue on my skin, his breath on my ear, his fingers gently, but firmly, fucking me into bliss – all of it, I would have to leave behind. Any depressing thoughts of Preston’s hands never being on me again were promptly shoved to the side when his fingers landed directly on the perfect spot, a place deep inside that, truly, I’d been the only one to find in the past. His teeth nipping at my neck, his arm around my waist, and his fore and middle fingers working me over; all those caused my head to tip back and a stifled cry to leave me. As if that weren’t enough, his thumb then found my clit, a power-move I was sure he was saving until that very moment to send me over the edge. His thumb circled it feverishly and I simply crackled. Sizzled. I was aflame. I thrust my pelvis into his hand, wanting everything he could give me, taking everything he was offering, and I might have climbed up him as I came.

  The orgasm he gave me went on and on, and perhaps was more than one, but I couldn’t tell. I was floating on a cloud, having the best out-of-body experience I could imagine. When I felt myself finally flutter back to the ground, with Preston’s fingers still gingerly stroking me, my eyes came back into focus and I looked at him. Before I could get a word out, his lips came to mine again, but this time, the kiss was sweet and slow.